Fall is Coming
by DeansBabyBird
Summary: Here is a small sweet moment in time Set in post season 8 but I suspect it will prove to be non canon Here be Destiel so for those who would not see, turn back
1. Chapter 1

**Here is a small moment in time. For me, it is not necessarily canon post season 8 so here be sort of spoilers. Here also lies Destiel so turn back those who would not see. **

**Fall is Coming...**

Fall is coming and the early morning light is soft where it paints the trees surrounding the lake with subtle dabs of liquid gold and bronze. The light falls too on the man seated on the grass by the gently rippling water. He is still, lost in quiet contemplation and though such solitary reflection is unusual for him, he is surprisingly at peace with the moment.

He is casually dressed. His t-shirt, which is old and thin from wear fits tightly over his broad shoulders but skims his slender waist to brush his tattered jeans. The faded denim is full of scuffs and tears, the knee on one side virtually non-existent, the hole there is so large. They are a little too long on him as well and they trail over his bare feet, soaking the dew from the grass that tangles about his toes.

He has drawn his legs up to his chest and his bronzed arms are wrapped about his shins. The posture rides his shirt up at the back exposing an inch of skin there too. His head is turned to the side, his stubbled cheek resting on the platform his knees create, as he studies the languid ripples on the water before him.

His face is beautiful.

Vitruvian in it's base perfection yet humanized by age and experience. He has scars and lines. It is a face that has seen, lived and endured much but it all adds to, rather than detract from who he is.

He is aware as the second man approaches but he does not stir, not even as the other stops just a step from him, casting an innately protective shadow across him.

"Good morning..."

The second man's voice is deeper than one might anticipate on first glance as he too is informally clothed but then, on inspection, his face has an other-worldly power about it that makes his tone somehow entirely appropriate.

"What are you doing out here?"

The man standing holds a hand up to his forehead as he speaks, shielding the deep, steady blue of his eyes from the shimmer of the lake. The seated man turns his head just enough to look up to his face as he responds.

"Nothing really...Just thinking."

He smiles and the golden light of the dawn shimmers in the jade depths of his thoughtful gaze.

"May I join you?"

The seated man nods his easy permission, his full lips parting invitingly as his companion steps closer. He crouches down, taking up position on the dew-damp grass behind the thinker. He stretches his legs to either side, shuffling on his butt until his chest presses close to the seated man's back.

He wraps his arms around his lover. It is an intimate, familiar gesture that speaks of their deep abiding affection for each other. They relax together knowingly, acknowledging at last that they were always meant to be.

The seated-man let's go his long legs and stretches them out as he leans back, rolling his head against the other's shoulder. His powerful hands move intuitively to find their understood place over the blue-eyed man's and their fingers intertwine as he turns his head so their eyes can find each other.

The contact they make in that gaze goes far beyond the mere physical. It is a display of their unequivocal love for each other. It say's 'I know you, you are mine' and 'I forgive you', 'I want you, I need you'.

Their mouths meet gently, almost hesitantly as if neither of them can truly comprehend that this is now theirs to have. Their lips ghost across each others, their heartbeats quickening into a shared rhythm as the minutes pass.

The sun is warm on them, heating their skin as their passion grows. The blue-eyed man's mouth becomes firmer and his hands move to explore the other's body. His tongue licks, forcefully demanding ingress and, with a soft sigh from its willing recipient, he is granted dominance.

"Cas..."

The green-eyed man's voice is a whisper, worn thin with need and the once-angel smiles as he feels strong fingers card urgently through his dark hair.

"Please..."

Castiel's pulse quickens further as he hears the want in his lover's voice. He knows he is being shown a vulnerability that this man so very rarely dares to allow himself and he revels that it is all for him.

"What do you want, Dean?"

He growls the words against the hunter's wantonly full lips, nipping and nibbling the soft, warm flesh as his hands move, roving the pliant body in his arms, searching out the skin long-forbidden to his touch.

"You..."

Dean gasps breathlessly, his hand pressing against the back of Cas's head, demanding the crush of his mouth.

"I...I...w...want you..."

Dean's eyes are dark, blown wide. The green that Cas so loves lost to desire and heat and hardness.

"Always you..."

**chapter ends. **

**Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Fall is Coming.**

**Chapter two **

He is seated on the side of the bed, swaying every so slightly, as if a soft summer breeze is blowing on him but of course it isn't. Their room is still and quiet, the windowless darkness lit only by the gentle glow of the small bedside lamp.

It feels comforting and intimate, private and special like the treasured haven it has become for both of them and Cas is secretly delighted that his hunter has defied him to make it home a day ahead of schedule. Still, he frowns in mock annoyance at Dean's stubborn willfulness.

"You should have stopped to rest, or let Sam drive a while whilst you got some sleep. Driving for nearly 24 hours solid is not conducive to good health, Dean."

The once-angel chastises as Dean blinks slowly, a small frown turning down the corners of his full lips.

"I didn't want to sleep in some crappy motel, Cas, I've done too much of that."

He mumbles around a less-than-successfully stifled yawn, a slight look of confusion on his face at Cas's seeming irritation. The once-angel retains his position and Dean shifts uncomfortably on the deep mattress, fatigue and worry showing in his body and face.

His posture is less upright than it usually is and on close inspection, he's a little pale. The freckles stand out more clearly across the bridge of his nose and his long eyelashes sweep at his high cheekbones as he blinks again sleepily.

He looks very young, somehow suddenly terribly vulnerable, and Castiel is shocked by the primal urge to protect that tugs at his heart. He sighs softly and closing the door to their room, moves quietly over to the bed.

"You are exhausted."

He says gently and Dean tilts his head back on his slumping shoulders so he can look up into his lover's face.

"I'm okay, really, I am."

The hunter smiles, eager to assuage the barely disguised emotion he hears in his companions voice but try as he might, he can't hide the weariness he feels.

"No, you are not, Dean. You have pushed yourself too hard and you need to sleep."

Cas's bright blue eyes hold the hunter's fuzzy gaze and after a moment Dean acquiesces and nods. He lowers his gaze, moving slowly, making to unlace his tattered old boots and the slight sway intensifies a little as his centre of gravity shifts.

"No, wait..."

Castiel's hand is firm and strong on Dean's shoulder as the slighter man drops to his knees by the side of the bed.

"Be still. Let me..."

He unlaces Dean's boots and pulls them off, placing them out of the way before following them with the hunter's less-than-snowy-white socks.

"Shirt next."

Cas suggests as he goes to rise only to be stopped by Dean's hand on his arm.

"You don't have to undress me, I can do it."

Cas shushes him with a quick shake of his head, his eyes soft with affection.

"Please..."

He leans his hand toward Dean's face, his finger's sweeping softly down a stubbly cheek until it cups the hunter's chin.

"Let me help you. You have looked after me for so long, let me do this for you."

Cas's azure eyes implore for permission, knowing how virtually impossible it is for this man to accept help and it is testament to the wealth of feeling that there is between them that Dean smiles and pliantly raises his arms.

The once-angel strips the thin t-shirt and drops it to the side of the bed as his hand goes to the spiky brown hair the movement has mussed-up. He cards his fingers through the soft hair as Dean's languid green eyes blink in slow affection at him.

Cas leans in closer and shifts his hands to buckle of the belt holding up Dean's jeans.

"Stand up and we'll get your pants off."

The newly-human deadpans and, sleepy as he is, Dean can't help but tease.

"Gonna get me naked and have your way with me, Castiel?"

The hunter questions, his face warmed with a smile and maybe the barest hint of a blush. Cas shakes his head, his face ever as serious as it always is.

"I am merely readying you for sleep..."

He pulls Dean to his feet and absorbs the sway that engenders in the taller man.

"But maybe, after you've slept some..."

Cas smiles meaningfully as he looks into Dean's slightly dilated eyes and the hunter's face lights up with promise.

Together they get him out of his tattered old jeans and under the soft, comfy blankets and Cas watches happily as the look of relaxation, belonging, of being home, warms Dean's sleepy face.

He leans down and brushes his hand gently across his lover's cheek, feeling the sweet graze of rough stubble on his fingers.

"Sleep now."

He turns the light off and goes to rise and leave only to have Dean grab his hand urgently.

"Stay?"

The exhausted man's voice is slightly slurry, sleep is claiming him as he settles against the soft covers and Cas smiles, his heart pounding with the love he feels for this rough, flawed, wonderful man.

He sheds his clothes quickly and slides into bed, reaching for Dean, pulling him to his chest so the spoon comfortably together as they were always meant to be.

Chapter ends.


	3. Chapter 3 - Winter Beach

**Fall is Coming**

**Chapter three - Winter Beach**

It's cold.

Really cold.

The pebbles that litter the beach are encased in little cocoons of silver-blue ice and the mist from the ocean stings like salt-rounds blasted against Cas's exposed skin. He pulls his thrift-store jacket tighter about him and curses silently to himself for neglecting to pick up his beanie and scarf before he ventured out.

It's his own fault though, that he's out here freezing his ass off in sub-zero temperatures and maybe it's only right that his fingers and toes are painfully numb, cause he's been a dick and this might just be some kind of penance?

He walks quickly over to the skeletal remains of an upturned row-boat that litters the beach before their cabin. The smooth wood is grey-ed out by years of wind and weather and Cas wonders briefly what stories it could tell if it were sentient?

He perches on what was the keel and hunches his shoulders, pulling up his collar to stop the biting wind nipping at his frost-blushed ears.

He's utterly fucking miserable...but he has only himself to blame.

wWw

He watches the figure on the shore and even though the man's back is turned, he knows intrinsically that it is his lover.

Everything that makes Dean, Dean, is etched into Castiel's psyche. Burned into his violently-blue eyes. Branded on his very soul.

The width of his Winchester-broad, bronzed shoulders, his soft, spiky hair and his strong, agile fingers are all damningly familiar to the once-angel. As are the hunter's sweetly bowed legs and endlessly-green eyes.

Cas sighs as he shivers for even at this distance he can feel the emotion telegraphing from his study in humanity. It rolls toward him in waves as defined as those of the dull, grey-green, winter ocean.

The anger is not the worse thing though. Cas could cope with that. He has learned, over the timeless seconds/ hours/ eternities that he has know Mankind, to deal with hatred and venom as much as he has with blind devotion but no, this is worse than that.

Dean is hurt...and it's the new-human's fault.

Entirely, absolutely, his fault.

And Cas hates himself for it.

wWw

He watches as Dean paces the short patch of sand that his wounded retreat has led him to and Cas can hear the vicious stomp of Dean's boots even though the shifting grains give below the scuffed and worn leather.

The hunter's posture vacillates between furiously rigid and crushingly bowed. His hands, one minute tightly fisted and the next, unfurled to hang at his sides in bitter despair.

Cas knows too that Dean must be frozen to the point of hypothermia. He's wearing just the jeans and t-shirt he was in when the 'struggling-to-know-how-to-be' human picked a fight some two hours ago and it's way beyond too cold to be outside all that time wearing so little.

wWw

He rises and walks across the wind-tumbled expanse toward the man who is his reason for being and even though Dean does not acknowledge him, still Cas feels the tsunami of raw passion that storms towards him as he draws nearer.

He stops within feet of the heart-sick man and searches for the words...any words, he might use to apologize for his unforgivable insensitivity.

wWw

But he cannot find them.

He is tongue-tied with remorse, regret and overwhelming grief because he has nothing that will begin to make amends and Cas feels the gnaw of terror that maybe this cannot be repaired?

That he has fucked up the only thing that makes his existence meaningful and he is suddenly breathless, dizzy, sick with fear at what he has done.

wWw

Dean is pale when he finally turns to face him but his eyes are more vividly beautiful than Cas has maybe ever seen them and his heart damn near stops when he thinks, if he has ruined this forever, this might be the last time he sees that green he loves with every fibre of his being?

The flawed-new-human opens his mouth, hoping the movement might find him his voice but before he can speak Dean lunges across the gritty sand between them and grabs him into an embrace that would crush most people.

His lips are like ice-cubes as they press urgently, needfully and Castiel gasps at the intensity of the kiss that he knows will leave his lips swollen and bruised.

He clings onto Dean as just as hard, wrapping his arms about the sweet flesh that triggers his every fantasy and desire.

"Dean...I'm sorry..."

It's a sob to which the hunter responds by lifting both his hands to cradle Cas's face.

"I k...know you a...are..."

Dean stutters, his body so cold that his teeth are literally chattering but still he presses his mouth to the once-angel's. The shudders are like tiny electric shocks running through Castiel and he responds in kind, nibbling and sucking as Dean's tongue licks into his mouth.

They stand like this for what might be hours until they are both breathless and hard as all fuck with need for each other.

"Forgive me?"

Cas whispers against Dean's neck where he has burrowed his face and he feels Dean nod shakily.

He pulls up and backs one step away so he can look into Dean's face.

His lover is smiling. That translucent, vulnerable, unequivocally passionate smile that makes Cas's heart as soft as it makes his dick, hard.

"On o...one...con...dition..."

Dean stutters out and Cas's face is immediately utterly serious, unquestionable contrite.

"Anything."

He whispers softly.

"I would do anything for you."

And Dean smiles wickedly as he reaches toward his soul-mate.

"Give me your damn jacket then, I'm freezing my ass off!"

Chapter ends


	4. Chapter 4 - Warming Up

**Fall is Coming**

**Chapter Four**

**Warming Up**

Cas slams the door with his foot, his hands occupied with holding his jacket about Dean's shivering shoulders whilst his head broods on thoughts of, one: getting his lover warm again and two: making amends for being a thoughtless, argumentative fool.

"Sit!"

Cas commands, guilt and worry making his voice even gruffer than usual and Dean can't help but smile because that voice never fails to turn him on anyway but now the demanding, dominant growl runs straight to his dick.

"C...Cas, I...I'm f...fine..."

He stutters, cause although he really is fucking freezing, he's just so relieved that 'they' are okay that it doesn't matter that he can't feel his fingers or toes or the tips of his ears, anymore.

"No, you are not, I can see you shaking. It was well below zero out there and I forced you out there in just your shirt."

Cas retorts worriedly and Dean opens his mouth, his perennial knee-jerk response to deny the statement looking to kick in further but closes it again quickly as Cas pleads.

"Please, just let me try and show you I'm sorry."

He tugs impatiently on the fabric of the coat and the frozen hunter shuffles unsteadily, but enthusiastically, forward into the rough embrace. The once-angel's mouth is wonderfully demanding as it presses to Dean's cold, blue lips and Cas's hands run firmly up and down his arms, trying to rub the circulation back into life.

He continues for a few seconds but Dean's shaking is not diminishing as quickly as the contrite ex-angel would like.

"Stay there."

Cas breathes hotly against the hunter's mouth as he breaks away and grabs the big, furry blanket they have on the bed. It's an embarrassingly tasteless thing, garishly coloured with badly-styled wolves howling at the moon emblazoned across it, but it's warm as fuck and that's all Cas is bothered about just now. Dean had bitched at him when he'd dragged it to the counter in the thrift store but he'd had to eat his words since they had been holed-up at the drafty old cabin.

"Lose the coat."

Cas is holding the blanket out, ready to wrap the frozen man in it's warmth as he nods his head at the borrowed coat. Dean shrugs his shoulders and the frost-dampened garment falls to the floor. He smiles, pressing himself chest first to Cas as he is enveloped in the lupine luxury.

"Here, sit on the bed."

They moves as one, the ex-angel's arms around the swaddled hunter as he guides him back to the big iron-framed bed that dominates one corner of the big room and Dean sits, groaning contentedly as he snuggles the fleecy cover closer.

Cas straightens.

"I'll stoke up the fire."

He tips his head toward the fireplace and the smoldering logs that burn in the grate as he turns but Dean goes to catch his hand. His fingers really are numb with the cold though and his hand slides off, barely clinging on to Cas's pinky.

"S...stay..."

Dean's eyes are giant-wide in the dim fire-light glow and his face is pale, bar from the tip of his nose which is blushed pink now he is back in the warmth. The freckles dotting his cheek bones stand out, highlighted by the flashes of gold that light up his green eyes. He looks...beautiful and Cas feels his chest tighten in amazement that this man is his and has the endless grace to forgive him when he is such a clumsy fool.

"Dean..."

He puts his hand to the hunter's cheek, his thumb trailing across the full, soft lips that beg to be kissed.

"I'm so sorry, I was stupid and cruel..."

"Don't."

Dean shakes his head, Cas's thumb dragging sensually at his swollen lip as he moves. He grabs tighter at the new-human's hand, pulling him so he moves closer.

"Stop talking."

The hunter orders as he wriggles inside the blanket, freeing his other hand. He pulls at Castiel's shirt, tugging it from his jeans, running his cold fingers against the ex-angel's exposed flash.

"We don't need the fire. You can warm me up. Skin to skin..."

Dean's eyes are alive with enough happy wickedness that Cas needs no further invitation.

"Get on the bed, Winchester."

The ex-angel orders, shucking his clothes in rapid order as he kneels on the creaky old mattress. Dean has scootched back so he is lying full length, the big blanket rolled about him.

"We need to get your clothes off too."

Cas smiles somewhat predatorily as he crawls up the bed and Dean nods, letting go his death grip on the blanket as he attempts to unfasten his jeans. His frost-nipped fingers are unresponsive though and he's still on the first button as Cas reaches him.

"Struggling there, hunter?"

Cas bends close, one hand flat on Dean's chest, softly pinning him to the bed as he leans in for a kiss.

"Mmmm..."

Dean hums his affirmation and Cas licks at the chapped seam of his lover's lips, asking for permission. For entry. For absolution.

Dean's mouth is maybe the only warm thing about him currently but it is wonderfully so. Cas swirls his tongue teasingly over the ridges and hot, wet curves as his hands pull Dean's shirt free of his jeans. His explorations are well met, Dean's tongue caressing his as he 'mmm's' contentedly.

"Can you lean up?"

Cas asks and Dean wriggles, his abs pulling tight as Cas pulls his shirt and he raises his arms, allowing the damp cotton to be stripped from him and discarded. He shivers as the air in the room reaches his bared skin and his nipples harden in the chill.

"Cold!"

Dean huffs irritably, shifting on his hip so he can move closer to his un-dresser, greedily seeking body heat. Cas grabs the blanket and draws it around them, taking the shivering man into his arms as he wraps them both tightly together.

His hands rubs firmly it Dean's back and sides as he holds him to his chest. Cas can feel the tight ridges of muscle of the hunter's belly flutter against him as he shares his heat with his lover.

"Better?"

He asks leaning back slightly so he can focus properly on Dean's face and is rewarded with a long, slow and very thorough kiss for his trouble. It stirs all sorts of passions with the only-just-human and he feels himself gasping with encroaching breathlessness as the hunter's kisses deepen. Heat pools in his groin and he can feel his hardening dick pressing uncomfortably against the rough demin of Dean's jeans.

He runs his fingers into the hunter's hair. It's a little longer now than it used to be and Cas smiles cause he knows, although Dean would die rather than admit it, that he's let it grow cause he loves to have it played with like this. He tugs gently at the soft, brown spikes, drawing his nails against the hunter's sensitive scalp and is delighted when he hears what can only be described as a sigh of pleasure whisper against his lips.

"That feel good?"

Dean bites at his lip by way of an answer, catching Cas's flesh in his teeth, rolling and nibbling at the pliant flesh as he presses closer still. He pushes his leg between the ex-angel's, deliberately rubbing his thigh against Cas's.

"You know it does."

Dean stutters, rocking hip hips purposefully and damn, if he isn't hard as hell!

Even trapped inside his jeans and boxers, Cas can feel the familiar shape of Dean's firm, think cock. He drops a hand, insinuating it purposefully between their bodies, cupping it over the hunter's growing bulge.

"The cold doesn't seem to have got to this."

Cas observes wickedly as he presses urgently with the heel of his hand and Dean growls a little, his hands curling around Cas's slim hips to grab at his tight ass.

"Maybe..."

He murmurs breathlessly, throwing his head back as he ruts against Cas's fondling fingers.

"...You better just check though? Can't be too safe with frost-bite."

Cas laughs then shifting his other hand so he can easier unbutton Dean's pants. He moves slowly, wragging each button open so that his hand deliberately judders, loving the aroused groans that each movement drags from low in his lover's throat.

"Cas!"

"What?"

The ex-angel wide-eyes innocently, trying to minimize the giggle in his voice, recognizing what a prick-tease he's being and knowing too that Dean is fully aware what he's doing.

"You're supposed to be being nice to me."

Cas hangs his head in mock shame for a moment before returning his fierce blue gaze to Deans.

"You're right..."

He grabs for Dean's hair again and pulls his lover into a bruising kiss. It's sloppy and wet, all teeth and tongues, dominance and need.

"Cas...please..."

Dean humms into his lover's mouth, rutting hard, desperate for release and Cas relents, thrusting his warm hand into Dean's pants to finally fold his fingers around the hunter's weeping dick.

The cadence of the kiss notches up to match the urgency with which Cas jacks Dean's tumescent cock. He squeezes the thick shaft in his warm hand, running his nails sensually along the familiar length as he pumps. He can feel the hunter's balls tightening as he moves and he revels in the whimpers that issue from Dean's kiss-pinked lips as he struggles to hold back, not wanting his pleasure to end, to climax too soon.

"Does that feel good?"

Cas purrs but Dean can't answer in words, the encroaching orgasm robbing him of an articulate response but he sighs and wraps his foot about Cas's leg, pulling him closer as he ruts unashamedly into the new-human's tight, slick fist.

"You gonna come for me, Dean?"

Cas breathes as he drags his thumb over Dean's sensitive tip and the hunter's head snaps back as he sobs in surrender. Cas presses his mouth to the exposed throat and sucks hard on the soft skin there, pulling a blood to the surface so it will bruise.

Dean moans. He's so close now, so near to total subjugation and he looks so desirable that Cas can barely keep from shooting his own load just from the wonder of him.

He's all tension and fever, hardness and heat. The palor of his skin has given way to the blush of his passion and Cas can hear Dean's breath stutter as his chest heaves and his cock spasms out it's load into the ex-angel's skillful hand.

wWw

The shivering returns as Dean folds, fulfilled and un-done, into his lover's arms. He is sated, his face soft with contentment, his body languid and spent. Cas strips him quickly out of his come-splattered jeans and tosses them to the side of the bed. He rolls the pair of them into the huge blanket, pulling Dean possessively to his chest as the hunter's head lolls sleepily against his shoulder.

His skin feels warmer now but Cas still runs his hands over the planes and sweeps of Dean's strong back and shoulders, rubbing sensually as the sleepy man throws his arm across his waist and snuggles his head closer into Cas's neck.

He rests his chin on the top of Dean's head, kissing him softly and tenderly and Dean snuffles and shifts in his arms.

"Go to sleep."

Cas breathes against Dean's hair and the near unconscious hunter nods.

"Love you."

Dean mumbles and Castiel holds him tighter still, his heart so full that he feels it might burst.

"Love you too."

He whispers softly.

Chapter ends


	5. Chapter 5 - Watching

**Fall is Coming **

**Chapter Four**

**Watching... **

I watch them from the safety of the shadows and I think they are far too wrapped up in each other to be aware that I am here but I am not really sure? I am not so hidden, in this cloudless moonlit vista that I am cloaked by invisibility but if they see me, they pay me no never-mind, so I linger.

It may be that they know I am watching them and they just don't care? Or maybe they are even getting off on knowing I am here?

Whichever it is, they are not letting my presence inhibit them and their coupling is beautifully sensual and erotic to observe, so I savor them, my wickedly voyeuristic urges winning out over innate decency this once.

They are well matched in height, the fairer one of the two being maybe just an inch or two taller but he is much stockier, more obviously powerful than the dark-haired one is.

His shoulders are broad, tapering to a slim waist and hips but his hands are large and strong looking. Strangely, for all his extra height and power it is the darker, leaner, slighter man who seems to be in charge of the situation.

He has the plaid-shirted one trapped against the wall, his booted-feet spread wide, his invading limb forced between the other's bowed legs and he is presses wantonly close to the heavier man's body, kissing him passionately.

The dark-haired man's hands grip tightly at the other's upper arms, pushing him against the rough stone, as his mouth devours his kiss-bruised lips. The adoration is hungry and almost brutally loving, like he fears the brown-haired man will flee if he lessens his grip on him, but I see this is untrue.

The pinned-one's eyes are alive with reciprocated, if somewhat surprised, lust, and blaze green-gold with dilated desire. His hands are pressed, palm flat to the wall but I see his mouth working just as eagerly as the instigator's as they kiss and lick and suck needfully at each other.

The stockier one moves his hand and plants it on the leaner one's hip and I hear a graveled-voice growl of admonishment.

"No."

The dark-haired one's electric blue eyes radiate warning and the encroaching hand withdraws urgently.

"You do not get to touch..."

He has his hand splayed against the heavier one's chest now and I see that one nod obediently, their assigned roles well matched in this, their erotic fantasy.

"I'm sorry."

He whispers softly and bows his head in comfortable, convincing subservience and the brittle moonlight paints the tips of his brown hair with a golden diadem that suits his contrite, vitruvian perfection.

"Kiss me."

The dominant, dark-haired man orders, his hand pressed hard to heaving flesh.

"Show me that you are really sorry."

He stares intently at the other as he makes his quiet but authoritative demand and I see the slightest hint of a smile play at the green-eyed one's mouth as he nods and leans slowly in.

His kisses are chaste, endlessly tender and I think, (hope?) I hear him sign softly as he feathers his sweetly-ravaged, criminally-full lips over the other's mouth.

They stand like this for minutes. The heavier man lost to their increasing passion as his hands first claw dutifully against the wall and then, break free in their need to touch and pet and fondle equally and through it all, the dark haired man continues to torture and tease in blissful, playful cruelty.

The leader's hand moves now as they lick and suck to a crescendo, he grabs at pert ass and tight, toned abs. Runs his fingers roughly through the other's short, spiky brown hair and I wonder how long I can spy on them before my own increasing noises of pleasure alert them to my uninvited presence?

But however long it is, I will stay and vicariously share in their sweet, stolen and arousing torment.

For it, and they, are beautiful to see.

chapter ends


	6. Chapter 6 - Storm Clouds

**Fall is Coming...**

**Chapter six**

**Storm Clouds **

He stands in the door-frame, his bare feet crossed at the ankle as he leans one-shouldered against the greyed-out, rotten, old wood. His hands are clasped around a chipped mug that holds the feebly steaming remains of the bitter, dark coffee that is, virtually, his life-blood. The reedy vapor trickles weakly skyward, the virgin-whiteness of it quickly lost to the aged-pewter of the encroaching storm clouds above.

He sighs.

It's a soft, melancholy sound that is well matched to the ingrained grief that pales his beautiful face and he shivers, the tremors tightening the long, lean musculature of his graceful body as the first rain drops start to fall.

The drops are languid and tumble earthward in fat, wet splats to soil the brittle wood of the veranda.

He blinks as one splashes against his cheek, cold and cruel as it drags a path through the dirt and grime that clings to his skin, yet he does not move to wipe it away, but leans forward, steering his body into the path of the unrelenting watery missiles.

He turns his face skyward, and the miserable grey of the day shadows his pallid skin, hollowing his eyes and sharpening the high lines of his cheekbones till he looks sculptured rather than human-birthed.

He is leaner now than he was, for life has been hard on him but he is still strong, still mostly un-broken...because he has to be.

His eyes give him away though. He can maintain the facade, build and rebuild the walls that defend him, even as all of heaven and hell's dominions line up to tear them down but he cannot hide his pain from that turbulent green-gold gaze.

The rain soaks his hair now, flattening it to his head as he stands amid the downpour and he gratefully uses the deluge to mask his tears as he finally lets go and allows them their inevitable release.

It is there that his lover finds him moments later. It is as if some invisible thread has pulled the darker-haired man to him. Some heart-tether that ties them irrevocably to each other. Binds them together. Body and soul.

The slighter man moves unflinchingly to the one grieving. He takes the mug from his trembling hands, discarding it quickly and steps forward enveloping the man who is has become the symbiotic other half of himself.

Their embrace is known, matched, mirrored and perfect and the casual observer would think it has been easy won but it hasn't. It is a thing of deepest need, unending emotion and brittle, bitter pain but is thankfully salvaged by hope and peace, serenity and true love.

He wraps his arms fiercely tight about the sobbing man and draws his head down giving him leave to nestle his face to the crook of his neck. His hands stroke and sooth, the soft physical affirmations of his undying love reflected in the heart-felt stream of quiet reassurances that whisper from his mouth.

'I am here' and 'I will never leave you' caress the broken man's temple. 'It is not your fault' and 'No one could have done more', brush gently on urgent lips.

It takes time...longer and longer each time...but slowly the sobs retreat and there is just the boneless exhaustion that always follows the ruination but he is ready for it.

He tightens his hold and pulls softly, giving as much of his strength to his exhausted companion as it takes as he rescues him from the raging storm.

He will hold him now. Pillow him, warm his chilled flesh with his own heat until the demons are chased from them.

This he can do because they are meant to be and though he knows God hears him not, he gives thanks that they have this.

Each other.

Forever.

Chapter ends


End file.
